Teach me to shine
by Misusedghost1998
Summary: Santana and Quinn used to be inseparable. The McKinley HBICS. But several years later, The girls are slowly drifting apart. Quinn's sophisticated roots and Santana notorious partying are slowly drifting them apart. Can Quinn turn The girl she secretly loves into a sophisticated beauty? PLEASE R
1. Chapter 1

Quinn sighs with happiness, the soft wind blowing through her spunky blonde hair and the aromatic scent of fresh shrubbery and nature surrounds her. The deep breath she takes into her lungs reminds her why she loves this, photography. The gorgeous scenery she sees daily refreshes her mind and cleanses her soul, finally putting her mind to relaxation.

Her camera is lifted and she takes a detailed image of the glowing orange sun setting behind the trees, sending them into a black silhouette.

She smiles to herself and kicks a few rocks on the dirt path that's located in the middle of the grassland with a slim lake running through the collection of rocks to its left side. It sends a warming mood through Quinn, hearing the stream trickle and the evening birds chirping in the surrounding tree tops that sway soundly around the rim of the walkwy. Everything is beautifully quaint and peaceful until she hears a cell phone ring with heavy rock music and she sighs, looking behind her at Santana who is lagging behind on the pathway, answering a call.

She doesn't even know why she brings Santana along anymore. The Latina complained about not spending enough time with her, so practically invited herself along. Not that Quinn exactly minded too much... Santana was a piece of art in herself and Quinn had always known that. But Santana couldn't seem to appreciate pure art in any form. Even now, standing with the camera hanging unused and lifeless around her neck, Santana still holds full control over Quinn, somewhat mesmerizing her. But Santana will never know that, of course.

Quinn shakes her head as her thoughts wander down the rabbit hole of fantasy again and she turns around, admiring the sunset as it melts behind the trees. The following pictures she takes, she thinks, are keepers. For sure. She will ask Amy to publish them tomorrow and who knows where they will go this time. With a little editing they will be amazing. The hoops of deep copper light ringing around the lense, spiraling out from the deep red gaps between the sunken tree silhouettes are just what the magazine is looking for in the new autumn edition.

Quinn sits down on the fresh greenery and looks at the sunset in awe. In awe of how it sees every inch of the breath taking earth every day. She hums softly along to the little tune her thoughts brought into her head as she admires her view. The song she sang with Santana back at their senior prom. Santana. No matter what she begins to think of, her wandering thoughts always wind up on the hopeless Latina.

Her head falls onto the side as she stares, thoughts and memories flooding her mind. High school was so terribly easy. Her and Santana were inseparable back in those easy days of foolishness and playfulness. She laughs dryly at them now.

She resists the urge to look back at Santana, knowing too well that the sun will be radiating off those perfectly shaped facial features in a exquisite image, mocha eyes shining with the same mischievous glisten only intensified by the beams. Something she wants to just capture on film and treasure forever.

Her and Santana are so opposite after these several years. Well, truly, Quinn has changed. Santana is a different story all together. Quinn puts her life into her sophistication and art, using her obvious talent to earn herself- and current roommate Santana- a living. And a decent one at that. Whilst Santana is still the rebellious, fiery girl she's always been. As Quinn once quoted, Santana Lopez never changes. Wild, notorious party animal nonetheless. But Quinn doesn't mind too much. Just wishes Santana would earn her own living, and not just as a small houred waitress at some diner.

She is rudely interrupted from her daydreaming by a pair of warm and so familiar hands slipping around her eyes, blacking out her dazed vision with an infectious giggle.

"You know, looking at the sun for long periods of time can damage your eyesight." Santana says jokingly, pulling her hands back as if Quinn's skin burnt her when she felt Quinn swatting them away. The Latina sighs in symphony with the blonde and sits beside her on the bank, her gaze following Quinn's to the horizon behind the trees. All Santana saw was trees and a bit of sun unlike the silhouette and warming masterpiece Quinn sees.

Santana never understood the dynamics and such interest someone could hold with simply capturing images on screen or camera. The only reason she was sat here at this point, when she could be preparing for a night out instead, was because she felt this undesirable drift tugging her and her best friend apart. This drift was playing at Santana's mind, tugging her heart to the extent that she could not sit and simply not do anything about it. Even if it meant becoming interested in something she's not.

Honesty is, Santana can't live without Quinn. Sure, she economically helps Santana's life and for that she is forever grateful but emotionally; too. Quinn is her rock. And a very beautiful rock at that, she thinks. A rock she never wants to lose.

"I don't care... it's just so beautiful..." Quinn murmurs, still unable to face the sun lit beauty next to her because of questions on her own self control. Control is something Quinn Fabray learnt she had a lot of, but never around Santana whom finds herself dreamily staring at Quinn's milky features.

"Too right it is..." the raven haired girl murmurs, her eyes still fixated on an unaware Quinn. Only she will know that the sunset wasn't at all what she was on about.

Seven years. Seven years they have been like this. Never moving back, never moving forward. Questioning science, science of progress, but it doesn't speak as loud as her heart.

They sit in the usual silence that washes over them, both girls staring at inadequate objects to distract themselves from the other girl. It's always like this. Silent, unprogressable. Progress is a word Santana never seemed to pick up the meaning of. Never did so.

"So... I guess you should go head home and get ready for your night out." Quinn says quietly, her eyes dragging down from the sky until she watches her hands fumble with the singular strands of grass, suddenly finding herself interested in how rubbery it felt, just time distract herself.

Santana lets out a small undetectable sigh. There it is again. The drifting. Her eyes flicker up, almost afraid, as she peers up into Quinn's through her lashes. Their eyes meet and Quinn smiles warmly, causing a small smile to tug innocently on Santana's lips. It's so adorable to Quinn that she can't resist slipping her arm around her best friend, pulling her close and laying her head on a perfectly fitting shoulder. The affection slowly fills up the emptiness in Santana's heart but she's fully aware it's only contemporary.

"What are you thinking?" Quinn questions, genuinely curious. She peeks up from Santana's shoulder, seeing the orange lit features that were so highly irresistible. Art. It's all Quinn ever thinks when she sees Santana, no matter what state the Latina is in.

Santana laughs fauxly and shakes her head slowly, smiling at Quinn and stroking her fingers through the smooth blonde hair as a quick show of affection. "Does that really matter, Q?" She shrugs, shuffling away a little so that Quinn takes the hint and sits up straight again, eternally fighting a battle of many different opposing emotions. Firstly, her stomach was fluttering with indescribable feelings and secondly, the wash of disappointment which settled inside her.

Quinn nods and softly replies, "You always matter..." before shrugging it off and looking up with glittering eyes at Santana who now stood waiting to leave, holding out her camera to Quinn. Santana gives a weak, disbelieving smile at the compliment and passes the camera into Quinn's hand, her fingers delicately brushing over the back of Quinn's hand on the rebound.

"I'll see you tonight, Q", she smiles, giving a weak wave as she begins waking back down the dirt path, her head bowed as she looks into the stream. Quinn watches the girls every movement sadly. Slipping through her fingers again. If only, if only she could find some way to bring them back together. The way they used to be. But for now, she has photos to print.

Quinn knows that tonight will be like every other Friday night. She will head home with the freshly printed photographs and send off the best to Amy and John, the magazine publisher. She'll be alone in the cozy yet lonely apartment as she flicks through Santana's comedic photos in amusement. She'll fall asleep on the sofa after watching some heart wrenching romantic movie with little Arthur, her excitable boxer puppy, in her arms only to be awoken by a drunken Santana staggering through the door noisily at some ridiculous time in the morning. Then she'll make coco for them both and stroke Santana's messy hair until the Latina falls into an easy sleep.

It's became ritual for Quinn.

This is Santana Lopez and she refuses to change.

If only Quinn could teach her to shine.


	2. Chapter 2: Because your beautiful

**Hey! Thanks for reading and as always, I sadly do not own any of the characters... :( hope you enjoy! **

The door closes with a soft thud behind Quinn. She detestes being in the modern day apartment alone, especially at night. When the girls first rented out the place, they spent all night every night together just enjoying their new found home with movie nights, meals and what not. That was up until all the movies had been rewatched at least two times and Quinn had ran out of intriguing recipes. That's when Santana started slowly slipping away and beginning her ritual of notorious nightly partying.

Quinn drops her shoulder satchel on the top wooden surface of the shoe rack and sweeps her unruling blonde hair from her eyes as she searches through the tam brown leather bag to retrieve the envelopes of photos that her and Santana had taken earlier that night.

She saunters through to the lounge and drops the photos on the baige sofa, dropping to her knees infront of the open gas fire and lighting it. When the sparks shoot up from under the faux coal and the room is surrounded in a warm, relaxing heat, Quinn sits back and just watches the flames flicker.

She's always had the ability to see 'crazy' things inside everyday objects as Santana would say. For example, what she sees in the fireplace built predominantly in the mantel piece is a vast spread of an orange glowing floor which fades up into a warm red border line where the figures Inside the blue gas flames dance and sway to their own individual rhythms with the golden, dominant flames. Yeah, she thinks, as Santana said; crazy.

Quinn sighs and uses the sofa to lift herself up, jogging up the darkly brown carpeted stairs to the upstairs. Two bedrooms besides eachother, directly at the top of the stairs and a shared bathroom parallel to the stair case. It's not much, but it is home for the two of them.

She stops as she passes santanas door and smiles warmly at herself, but frowns at the clear difference between the girls that are noticeable just by looking at the entrance to their rooms. Santana's door, decorated with personal images of her and friends, out and about and being crazy on nights out. She thinks about the lack of herself on the door, always does, but brushes it off. She doesn't care about the other photos, the only one that matters is the one right in the middle of the door.

She peels it off the door and smiles at it, laughing to herself a little. It displays the girls, huddled together in large fleasy coats as they stand Infront of the beauty that is the Eiffel tower in the Paris winter snow. Not a gap is visible between the girls as they hug tightly to keep warm and smile goofily at the lense. Quinn remembers the professional photos took that holiday too. Paris in the snow was truly a wonder to behold. The photos brought in a amazing income so Quinn treated Santana to a pair of diamond earrings that Christmas. Santana wears them everywhere now; just because they were brought by Quinn so therefore meant the world to her.

Quinn tacks the photo back onto the wooden door and places her hand on the handle to her own. Professional. That's the only way to describe Quinns door. There they are, the Paris photos. The Eiffel tower, Notre dame, small French shops and streets, l'arc de triumph all sheltered and preserved under a gorgeous blanket of crisp white falling. She remembers everything about every single photo but is too tired to reminisce so pushes open the door and quickly grabs her silk black gown off the back of the door,slipping it around her body and plodding back down the stairs and into the warm greeting of the lounge.

She passes right through the heated room and into the modest kitchen to whip out a chilled bottle of exquisite French red wine. She really does love everything French. Quinn takes the bottle and pours a large glass before swilling it around the glass to take a quick sip. She hums softly with approval and sits on the couch, licking her lips and pulling out the dozen photos that had been taken by Santana just for her own amusement. She'd told Santana to take photos of what she found beautiful so expected a packet full of Santana pouting at the camera. Not that she disagreed...Santana was infact gorgeous, she'd never deny that. The girl whom Santana is most likely drunkenly dancing with currently is extremely lucky. Quinn never questioned that she would never be so lucky. She'd never get Santana no matter how much she admired the girls radiant beauty.

The first photo Santana saw was indeed santana's face. How original. Biting the Inside of her cheek and looking into the lense of the raised camera through her dark lashes. The picture, like many others,sent chills through Quinn's body and right to her core so she dismissed the photo to the back of the pile. The following five were goslings. How cute. The small birds waddling over the grass in their well organized line following their mother. Santana always had a thing for baby animals despite how badass she may come across so the Latinas relation of calling the small birds beautiful was understandable.

But as she passed each photo to the back of the pile she held, the next shocked her.

"How did she even..." Quinn mutters as she studies the photo of herself before her eyes. If this photo was of Santana then sure, it would be one of the most breathtaking images she'd ever seen. But a photo of herself taking a photo...Quinn didn't find it beautiful in the least. The golden yellow rays of light illuminating her tilted upwards jaw bone just drew attention to all the features of her face she didn't particularly like. It highlighted her hazel green eyes bringing them to the centre of attention as they peer through the viewer of the camera. Quinn hates her eyes. She'd much prefer them to be santanas excellent colour or even a ocean blue but she's stuck with dirty earth colored eyes.

She's just about to view the remainder of the photos when a obvious rummaging and stumbling is heard coming from the front door. Quinn reaches to pick the wine from the glass table to the left of the sofa and sips it, looking at her watch curiously. Twelve am. That's early for Santana, almost unusual. But Quinn knows better than to question it. She just waits for Santana to stagger into the lounge as she finishes off her delicious wine a little too quickly. That quickly, in fact, that she physically feels it's effects go straight to her head and distort her mind slightly.

"Hey Quinnieh!" Santana slurs in the doorway, closing it loudly and walking around to plop herself on the sofa besides her best friend. Quinn sighs at how clearly pissed Santana is and folds her arms sternly over her chest but all the anger and frustration merely melts away when Santana crawls down to softly lay her head on Quinn's stomach and close her heavy eyelids. Quinn looks down at the Latina in shock for a moment, watching the girls arm snake around her waist with wide eyes; but soon she felt the display of affection melt her heart.

"How was your night?" She asks quietly, her hand reaching out as if controlled by it's own mind to brush through santanas thick raven hair- stroking through the silky strands and massaging her scalp. Santana hums sleepily in approval.

"I missed you so I came home..." Santana yawns, shuffling her face and nuzzling into Quinn's abs through the dark silk. Quinn bites her lip and shakes her head. Santanas drunk...she has no idea what on earth she's saying right now.

Santana hears a scoff from Quinn that the blonde herself didn't know she'd released. Quinn quirks a brow down at Santana seeing the girls makeup smudged down her cheeks as if she'd been crying. Her brow knits together and she slides her hand from santanas hair and down to wipe away the smooch of mascara with the pad of her thumb.

"What's wrong, Santana?" She asks, looking into dazed chocolate eyes with concern. Santana always was the whole 'weepy hysterical drunk' and most often ended up crying, but not quietly like what Quinn was witnessing now. Her hand hesitantly cups santanas perfectly shaped jaw and strokes across her skin softly, just because she can and has always dreamt of touching Santana like this, but knowing she'd have forgotten by morning.

Santana sniffs and shakes her head, laying it delicately back onto Quinn's stomach and holding the bewildered blonde tight against her. "Your just so beautiful..." Santana mutters just as her eyelids give way and fall shut sending the girl into a deep, alcohol fueled sleep.

Quinn just sits there for as long as she needs, staring at nothing in particular with bulging eyes. Did Santana just? She shakes her head and runs her trembling fingers back through her hair, pushing her fringe back and to a side as she thinks through the hidden meaning of what Santana just said. The rebellious party wrecker had just used The words 'you' and 'beautiful' in the same sentence, aimed at Quinn, hadn't she?

Quinn let's out another subconscious scoff and sighs. Santana would have forgotten she even said that within a hour or less but still... Santana had never actually said anything like that to Quinn's face before. Sure, Santana thought it every minute of every day but never said it aloud.

Quinn decides on shaking it off, like she does with most things that involve the Latina goddess infront, or in this case, ontop of her and just watches her soundly sleep. How she wishes she could understand Santana. Actually, she sort of wishes she could change her, although how mean that sounds. She'd always fantasized about Santana being the sophisticated type, silly things like artistic dates that are appreciated, Santana act excelling in photography. Ridiculous things like dances and stereotypical romance. It's all so perfect to Quinn...but it's all stupid.

As she strokes soothingly through the Latinas hair she wanders how long they will stay like this. Just friends. The rebel and the photographer. She doesn't know if she'll be able to hold back the frustration and love that comes with it either.

Several years now she's been certain of two things.

Firstly, she's always been unconditionally, madly, uncontrollably in love with Santana Lopez.

Secondly, that one day, she will teach Santana to shine.

Now maybe it's the time to so something about that. Both of those theory's.

**Hey! Thanks y'all so much for reading it means so much! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please drop me a review and let me know what your thinking about this and where you'd like it to go although I have it pretty worked out, I Just love feedback. So thanks again and take care, **

**Louise x **


	3. Glass is half full

**Hello! I am so Sorry that I somewhat abandoned this story but I read back and Got the drive to continue this back. To the person Who asked if this story will feature Brittana the answer is a most definite no, and if the character of Brittany is introduced it will be nothing more than a friendship. I have grown to despise the ship so if there's a problem with that I suggest you stop reading. Quinntana for the win. ;) **

Thud after thud after thud of pain stimulating Santana's temples rouses the girl from a deep unconsciousness. Waking up had surely became a painful procedure, so much so that Santana didn't know why she still found her hand snaking around the neck of beer bottle every night. The pounding of her head is accompanied by the pound of a heavy drum beat and Santana groans loudly at her alarm, burying her face further into the warmth of her pillow.

"Leave me alone, fall out boy" she sighs, arm freeing itself from around the soft pillow to helplessly rummage for the source of the current noise. Under No other circumstances would Santana call this music noise but during a hangover, it was Nothing but that. Once she retrieves the phone, Santana rolls onto her back with a grunt and squints her eyes at the bright screen as she deactivates the blaring alarm. She settles back down into the pillow and cuddles into it as if the item resembled a human body. In her mind it did, and she knew exactly who's body it resembled.

A sigh escapes her tiresome body and she closes her heavy lids into an expected tranquil silence but even the sound of chirping birds outside her window aggravated her and left her sleep deprived, laying awake uncomfortablly. All she wanted was silence to soothe her headache.

Santana ended up deciding against resuming her sleep when every little sound agitated her. The dripping of a tap, the creek of a floorboard, the bark of the next door neighbours dog, the soft pluck of guitar strings from Quinn's room. She'd given up completely.

Athough when realization hits her of what that last sound was, it does anything but aggravate her. It causes her heart to somewhat flutter and a relaxing wave of calmness consume her. Quinn's playing was so elegant unlike the music of the guitars she listened to. The elegance was what Santana currently needed as she relaxed completely and lay on her side, blankly staring at the wall Which Quinn's room connected to hers, resting as still as possible to prevent the bed springs making any unwanted noise.

When Quinn's voice began to sing, she was at peace.

_Thought love had come my way, when I saw you face to face. When you looked at me that way in covent garden that way. What did I do wrong to make you doubt me and Why did you change? _

Santana's brows furrow briefly but she delays it from the pain it causes. An ache comes from her heart. She'd never heard such sincere sadness in Quinn's voice when she sang. Even if Santana couldn't see Quinn, she could feel her. Feel what she was singing. And it hurt. Like an invisible connection between their hearts.

_The girl I knew always made me smile. The girl I knew wanted my first child. The girl I knew wouldn't make me cry. But she's gone and left home tonight. Left me all on my own tonight. _

Santana bites on her lip as her eyes water over- stinging. She fumbles with the phone held by her clammy hands and wipes the screen tinted with perspiration before bringing up her text conversation with the contact ' Quinn ' to send her a good morning text:

_**To **____**Quinn**____** (0700 392 28): **__Good morning babe. Sleep well? Sorry if I came home a little late last night, I can't remember much so it couldn't have been that great. You're sounding beautiful by the way. You're so talented. What are you singing though? You sound sad. xx _

Santana's rests again and stares blankly at her glaring phone screen, leaving herself a mental note to lower the brightness settings when she can be bothered. She listens absently to Quinn with an abrupt lump in her throat refusing to be swallowed away. She carefully listens as Quinn's passionate singing drowns into a mumble and the playing comes to a slow stop, Quinn obviously receiving the text making a small smile appear on the Latinas face, cuddling into her pillow further to disguise her foolish grin from No one but herself.

Brief moments after she hears Quinn finger a fresh chord and begin softly resuming her strumming, her phone buzzes aggressively twice against her sheets and Santana's arm immediately grasps it much to her worn bodies protest. Not allowing her eyes to linger on her background, she opens the incoming text message.

_**From **____**Quinn**____** (0700 392 28): **__Good morning sweetheart. I slept well thank you babe. You were surprisingly early for you. I'm so Sorry if I woke you. I'm not sad, just practicing a new song. It's called 'the girl I knew' by a band called Lawson. Not your type of music. Want some coffee? xx _

Parallel in Quinn's room, the blonde lingers on the vital lie in that text. She's not happy. The song deeply wounds her and that's why she was drawn into learning it. Quinn had learnt over her agonizing life not to dwell on the depressing factors in life but instead to search for that small glimpse of brightness and light and focus fully upon that. She never let herself make things worse for herself to get attention or sympathy. But sometimes she couldn't resist the sad things. Everyone needs that feelings of someone relating to your demons for support from time to time. Upsetting songs did just that for Quinn.

Just as the blonde is about to relax back into the comfort of her bed, she's interrupted by a call from the room besides her own.

"Orange juice and aspirin please Quinnie!"

Quinn would groan if she didn't want to assist Santana as much as she did. The hang over sounds like one of an unkind nature so Quinn ties the gown back around her pyjama clad body and stumbles wearily back into the open hall, turning to look at Santana's door as she addressed the girl beyond it.

"Sure thing darling. You just rest"

Of course Santana was blind drunk last night. Why else would she have made that strange comment that included the word '_you_' meaning Quinn and '_beautiful_' in the same sentence. Those type of sentences just shouldn't exist from anyone, so Quinn thought. She didn't like people lying. She was just too oblivious to see that people were doing anything but lying when they address her angelic beauty.

With a shake of her head in disbelief, Quinn makes her way down the stairs and into the freezing cold lounge, shivering as the coolness wraps around her bare legs with ice cold embraces. The quaint room looked so contradicted to what it was last night. It portrayed a warm, cozy cabin-like room the night before. Now it was just an ice cold metallic room, fully exposed of it's ugly faults by the light of morning. Something so beautiful the night before was now such a mess this morning.

Her thoughts were wandering again. Quinn kneels down and ignites the fireplace, crouching down before the sparking flames to warm herself up. She longs to be able to switch off the outside world's lights to send the room back into the same dark, cozy state as last night.

Now that Quinn's shivers had seized to a stop, the blonde stands again and braces herself for the ice cool kitchen. Her eyes fall upon the half full glass of wine as she hums to herself and decides against her thoughts of finishing it so early. She was no drunkard. Drinking was for after 8:00㏘ in this apartment, strictly. Santana would say that glass was half empty. Santana also finds it hilarious when Quinn says how much that opinion explains their 'constricting personalities' but they both knew that was just because Santana didn't understand.

The rouge liquid swirls down the drain and is washed out but crystal clear water, cleansing away all the trace of last nights drunkenness. Maybe Quinn had imagined Santana's statement during her period of time fueled by alcohol? She just didn't know. It still felt like a dream, and maybe it was. Quinn finds herself sighing quite often as she refills the glass with orange juice from the freezing fridge, surprised the juice hadn't turned into the density of a slushie. Santana never understood the need to defrost a fridge, like she didn't understand the need to do anything. Quinn finds herself placing the orange juice and packet of aspirin on a tray as she subconsciously begins cooking Santana some breakfast. She could never resist. The girl told herself she was just making pancakes because they were enjoyable to cook but deep down she knew that she was only doing this to surprise Santana and be the cause of that beautiful, lazy smile in the morning.

Just as she's plated up the third in the pile on Santana's tray, Quinn's phone bleeps against the ceramics of the work top and she delays her next pancake, placing the jug of the mixture back down and wiping the grease off her fingertips before viewing the message.

_**New message(s)**_

_**Santana (0800 829 67): **__Yeah, that party was actually rather boring if I remember right. But that alcohol must have been damn strong. Aspirin? :( I just listened to that song. Made me almost cry. Listen to some Happy stuff, Q. That's just depressing. I don't like you being depressed. xxx _

_**Amy (0900 828 28)**__: Quinn! It's 11:00__! Where are the photos for the autumn collection. I need them for editing, ASAP! _

Quinn sighs and ignores both the texts even though Santana's plays on her mind. She hurries through making another two pancakes and plates them all up, drizzling Santana's favorite condiments on top before carrying the tray carefully upstairs, pushing the door to Santana's room open slowly with her back. She frowns as Santana lays clutching her head, the girls fingers tangled violently in her hair as she clenched her eyes shut and sets her jaw. Just the pure sight sent an invisible hand to stab into her gaping chest and clench her heart. It made her almost cry.

The tray is set carefully at the foot of Santana's bed as Quinn walks up to Santana and sits herself gently on the edge of the mattress, looking down at an oblivious Santana with tearful eyes. The Latina remains oblivious until Quinn's loving hand strokes through her matted locks, muttering soft coos to soothe her roommate.

"Quinn" Santana sniffs, her pained eyes flickering open partly at the smell of pancakes and partly from the safe feeling of having the blonde here with her. Quinn just coos a small plea of 'shh' as she begins playing with the other girls hair, massaging her scalp with dainty patterns of her fingertips just how Santana liked it. The clenching pain melts gradually away as Santana's jaw relaxes and a small content smile displays on her distressed features.

"It's okay. I Got you some aspirin. And some juice and pancakes, just how you like them" Quinn whispers, knowing loud sounds would cause the Latina further discomfort. Santana shifts her head until it rests in Quinn's lap once more, sending vivid memories of last nights words and events into Quinn's imagination. Could something so vivid and exact possibly be the thing of dreams or drunken hallucinations? It couldn't. Not possible. Concluding this brought a flattered, sweet smile onto Quinn's lips as she continues to stroke Santana's hair as she's thanked for the trouble of making breakfast.

A long content period of time passes between the two Where the silence lingering heavy in the air feels anything but awkward between the two girls. Having the intelligence that content silences rarely happen between two people the way they do between her and Santana reassures her that Santana isn't the sand running through the gaps between her fingers. Santana will always be hers. Her best friend that is. Best friend Who thinks she's 'just so beautiful'.

"You're so beautiful too" Quinn finds herself whispering completely randomly, interrupting the content silence.

But Santana lay sleeping in her lap once more.

**Thank you so much for reading. I'm going to try and update this as much as possible from now on. I really want a successful Quinntana fanfiction, being as the only story was an *eugh* Brittana once. Please leave me a review to Tell me what you think. Thank you so much.**

**Louise x **


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